Healers and Dreams
by Elfgirloflorien
Summary: Faramir is recalled from death by Aragorn. But his dreams keep haunting him...


He stood knee deep in the Anduin, watching as the boat drifted slowly by. As if compelled to, he looked down into the boat, knowing what he would find. Boromir lay dead, many wounds upon him, and the weapons of fallen enemies at his feet. He stood and stared down, at the proud face of Boromir the strong. And then again he looked up, and there was Boromir, standing on the opposite bank. His face was hard, as hard and cold as steel. He called across the water: "You failed. You failed to save Boromir from his doom. You failed to grasp Isildur's Bane. You let it slip away and so brought to ruin your father. You have failed, and you must pay." He looked down again, but the face in the boat was not Boromir's. It was his own face.

Faramir woke up, still aching from the memory of his dream. Why? It wasn't his fault Boromir was sent to Imladris. It wasn't his fault his father had gone mad. Slowly his mind became aware of a cool scent, and a hand that dampened his forehead. He struggled to sit up but was pressed firmly back down. "Lie still, Lord," said a voice. Faramir, finally succeeding in opening his eyes, saw a tall man bending over him. "Who are you?" he mumbled. "I am Aragorn. Be still. You are in the Houses of healing." Slowly, Faramir drifted back to sleep……

He stood at the edge of Rauros, watching a boat go over the falls. This time, though, Boromir was not in it. The steward's scepter of Gondor lay in the bottom of the graceful elven boat, glistening in the morning light. Faramir reached for it, but it was out of reach. He waded into the water, but the boat always eluded him. Suddenly, a strong wave swept him off his feet. He barely touched the edge of the boat before the wave swept them both over the fall. Water filled his nose and mouth, as he fell. Somewhere in the distance he heard the voice that had haunted many of his dreams up until now.

_Seek for the sword that was broken_

_In Imladris it dwells,_

_There shall be councils taken_

_Stronger then Morgul spells._

_There shall be a token_

_That doom is near at hand._

_Isildur's bane shall waken_

_And the halfling forth shall stand. _

But the councils were not stronger, they had been broken, like the sword, but the sword had been reforged anew. And it did not dwell in Imladris, but had forsaken the realm of mortal men forever. Doom was coming for Gondor, doom that could not be stopped and the halfling was lost forever, and it was all his fault. It was his fault, and he fell and fell…

He woke again, and again the man was there, holding a bowl in front of his face. and the smell was like dewy mornings, and a fair world in spring, and a place that had never known darkness. And Faramir spoke, without knowing what he said. "My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?"

"Walk no more in the shadows, but awake!" said Aragorn. "You are weiry. rest a while, and take food, and be ready when I return."

"I will, lord," said Faramir. "For who would lie idle when the king has returned?" For Faramir knew, then, that this was the king, and that the stewardship was now lost to him forever. But he did not care, with a strange carelessness, for what his father had died to keep he had no desire for.

"Farewell then for a while!" said Aragorn. "I must go to others who need me." And he left Faramir. Sleep came to him again slowly, for Faramir was joyful that the king had indeed come again. But sleep did come. and with it, dreams.

He stood again at Osgiliath, and watched the orcs come sailing in. He would warn his men, but they were no more then cold statues. The orcs were also there, as statues, frozen in middle of the battle. He saw the orc that killed one of his captains, shoving the spear into the captain's chest. He saw the look of terror on the captain's face, the evil grin of the malformed orc. He walked among his men, horrified at the slaughter, and he walked on, and on, and now he was running, and then he was on his horse, leading the charge back toward Osgiliath. A single line of horsemen rode alongside him, but then suddenly they froze again into statues and he felt rather then saw the malformed orc give the order to fire and the arrows turned to stone and buried themselves in his stone warriors. And he was falling, falling, through water and fire……

The dawn came, but it was dark. To the East, it was darker still, as if the sun would never rise. Faramir did not feel strong enough, but somehow he struggled out of bed and went to the window. There he remained staring eastward. There were no dreams that night.

The next day, two days after the Captains had left on their desperate mission, he walked alone in the garden of the Houses of Healing, and the sunlight warmed him, and he felt new life run in his veins. But his heart was heavy, and he looked over the walls eastward. And coming, the Warden spoke his name, and he turned and saw Lady Eowyn of Rohan; and he was moved with pity, for he saw she was hurt, and his clear sight perceived her sorrow and unrest…


End file.
